


midnight musings, teenage love(s)

by The Key To Imagine (whiskeywit)



Category: The Beatles
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-25
Updated: 2017-03-25
Packaged: 2018-10-10 11:31:04
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,210
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10436715
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/whiskeywit/pseuds/The%20Key%20To%20Imagine
Summary: Title: Midnight musings, teenage love(s) )Rating: PG-13Pairing(s): some John/Len Garry, John/Paul (= main pairing), some John/CynWord count: 4.404Disclaimer: I don’t own the Beatles or other persons named in this fic in any way, and I never will. I am not saying this is how they were, and seen as I am not in the possession of how John (or the any of the other people) were feeling and thinking about certain things, I am one hundred percent sure this is completely fictional. So don’t sue me, I just write for fun!A/N: This is a little… Different than I usually write, I suppose. Well, of course, it is from John’s POV, it is slash but I think that is pretty much where the similarities end.  It is about John’s feelings, more than specifically about John/Paul, and I hope it has worked out well. Oh and just for those who don’t know; Len Garry was one of the members of the Quarry Men, he was also at the fete at which John and Paul met for the very first time. I have no clue about his relationship with John, but hey! A writer does have her freedoms, hasn’t she? ;)





	

**Author's Note:**

> [cont.] Um, and it is not a diary, although I think it sometimes sounds like it. It is just so that it’s easier if I write it in this form. They’re just snippets of John’s thoughts, spread over several months/years.   
> I did not really intend on posting it when I started to write it, it is more for fun and because I wanted to know how it would turn out to be, a fic like this. Eventually I decided to post it anyway, I mean, it’s not as if the people on here wouldn’t appreciate some slash, don’t you think so? ;) Nevertheless: It’s not the fic I’m most satisfied with!  
>  I’m not sure whether everything I wrote has happened for real or whether it’s accurate, but I couldn’t really be bothered to look it all up as how it was exactly. Excusez-moi for any mistakes when it comes to that, if it does bother you just don’t read on or place a comment about it.  
>  Comments are appreciated but not necessary, the reason is written in the phrases above this one J I got enough of writing this author’s note, so go ahead, read and (hopefully) enjoy!
> 
> -
> 
> Backup of old fic originally posted to the Beatles community JohnheartPaul, currently residing on key_to_imagine, currently in locked status. Summary contains the header as is on the LJ post.
> 
> Originally posted pre 28 DECEMBER 2008.

Midnight Musings, Teenage Love(s) 

I’m lying in bed, like so often, and I am just thinking about what I will become when I grow up. 

I will become famous. I will be standing on stage, my band gathered around me and we’ll just go loose, play like no one has ever done before. There is an incredible vibe coming from us, and the music will be pouring from out of the speakers over the incredible crowd that is there to see us and to hear us play. I bet it has to be one of the most fantastic feelings ever; feeling like you are at the top of the world (of the charts, in this case).

Somehow, I have very much the feeling as if I am the one who is most definitely going to make it, whilst the others won’t. I don’t know how to describe the feeling, not even if I try to make it clear for myself. In fact, it just seems irrational, a silly teenage fantasy if I think about it. Mostly because it’s just all shit, all those other blokes who want to get famous are most likely feeling the same anyway! Nevertheless, it doesn’t take away the fact that I keep feeling like that, no matter how much I think about it. Therefore, I suppose there is only one solution - becoming famous.

At least I know that I’m talented. Not that it feels like I am myself, if I hadn’t been able to compare myself to other blokes I probably hadn’t known at all, but I am and so I notice that my progression is going way faster and easier than theirs. It feels like I am learning to play so easily! Although I also very well know that I’m not the most talented either - if I compare myself to the real good guitar players I’m just a nobody who barely knows at thing about it - I am merely able to produce a proper chord. The other chords I play are banjo chords, and to be honest, I’m sometimes ashamed about that. I suppose I should find someone who is willing to teach me how to play guitar properly. Maybe he could be in the band as well - seen as the others haven’t got as much feeling for the music as I have, I know I have to, well, rudely said; get rid of them. Otherwise, I suppose, fame will be far to seek.

When I’m trying to get to sleep with the lovely thought of (maybe) becoming famous, my mind is starting to wander off to other, more random subjects automatically. Somehow, I catch myself thinking about Len time after time. It has been like that for the past weeks, actually, since we started to practice with the Quarry Men. I don’t exactly know where the thought comes from, but I actually think that I am starting to like him. Not just, like him as a mate, but like him as in developing a fancy on him. Which is strange, because he is a bloke and I am a bloke and a mate of his, and I was, no, I am very sure I love birds a helluvalot. 

Although, maybe the strange part isn’t even the fact he’s a bloke, but that I’m not even confused or even disgusted by myself. In fact, every feeling seems to be rather natural; even if I try, I cannot say I find it horrible or something like that. 

Therefore, if I recall the way I have been feeling when Len got near me for the past week, I have to admit that it - indeed - looks a lot like how I am feeling when I fancy a bird. I try to imagine what it would be like to kiss him. At first, I’m having some difficulties - who wouldn’t have? It is not as if I’ve ever even really thought about it before. Then, when the right image eventually pierces my thoughts, it’s making me feel so oddly excited that I have to turn to my stomach and smother my giggles in the pillow.

When I calm down a bit again, I still cannot help but smile whenever I think about him. Although it’s not entirely the same as when fancying a bird, I suppose it is very near the feeling anyway. Perhaps the biggest difference in feelings is that they might be somewhat… heavier now. Even that thought isn’t enough to make me even feel merely confused with myself. Mind you - not even the thought that I might like boys a bit more than girls (which I by the way don’t think so), is not confusing.

I had always thought that if something like this would happen to me, I would feel utterly puzzled and disgusted. Instead, I am really feeling very comfortable about it, natural, just the same as when I like a bird.

Nonetheless, I most certainly won’t tell anyone about it. I know how the other blokes will react - the same as what I used to do in the past and will do in the future: act as if it’s absolutely the most horrible thing on the world; two men who’re performing sexual deeds together, things other than having group wanks! Say that you shouldn’t get near a queer, because they just might infect you. Rubbish of course, I know that - and honestly, deep in my heart I might actually glad to be able to like both men and women. 

Doesn’t take away the fact that buggering is illegal though, and that you might end up in jail because of it - we have all heard the stories - but maybe that’s adding a bit to the excitement? Besides, I suppose that a bedroom with closed curtains and a locked door should be enough to hide it from the outside world, right. It’s not as if I am desperate to do anything - but what if I just happen to start liking a boy who is also going to like me.

I realize that I really should go to sleep now - it‘s late and Mimi will kick me out of bed early tomorrow. My conclusion is that nothing is wrong with fancying other blokes, as long as you don’t let anyone know or find out that you’re interested in them - you wouldn’t have a nice life in case they did, I suppose. 

 

\- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

 

Before today, I’d never thought that I would ever experience love at first sight - it seems so… strange. Illogical, really. How can you love someone you barely know, someone you just met once and while you don’t have a clue how this person is in real life?

Yet, this afternoon after the gig that went rather good - we performed Be Bop A-Lula for the first time! - Ivan introduced me to this bloke, his name’s Paul McCartney, and I really think my gob fell open the first time I saw him although my other mates said I just looked ‘a bit unusual‘. No clue what they meant by saying that. Anyway, Ivan told me that the friend he brought is Paul McCartney, and then told Paul I am John Lennon, and then Paul asked to borrow a guitar and someone handed it to him.

He is a leftie, he just played it upside down and it seemed so easy! Just that was very interesting already. Then, he played some songs to me that I had apparently sung wrong; it was perfect the way he did them. In addition, he did a splendid imitation of Twenty Flight Rock! Somewhere during shaking his hand, and him playing that Eddie Cochran song, I must have fallen in love with him. I forgot about Len immediately, really.

I can recall the fact that I swung my arm around his shoulders, I know I whispered something in his ear, but I’ve forgotten the details and do not know what exactly I said anymore. 

It wasn’t just the fact that he could play well though; there was something else as well. I think it was partly due to his looks, he looked like a chubby mini-Elvis. His big brown eyes did tell me that he might actually be a bit cheekier than what most of my other mates seemed to find - they told me afterwards that I shouldn’t have asked him to join the band. I told them to sod off and that Paul of course had to get into the band, because he is talented. Even though I hate to admit it - he might actually be more talented than me. At the other hand, he does know how to play guitar very well, so I might actually learn something from him. 

In case he does not want to join the band, I might actually have to persuade him! He has to join the band, it is a feeling I got and I’m not even sure if that feeling is just because I rather… fell for him straight away, or that it’s because of his talent. I actually presume it is because of the latter - the best for the band, not?

I very much like how he looks like. He has dark brown hair, and it is combed back into a slick DA. His eyes are brown as well, although, when the light shone on it from a certain angle it seemed almost greener. I love eyes; I love to look at eyes. I would love to take some more looks at his eyes because I’ve barely ever seen them. 

Pete and the rest told me that I was ‘doing that staring trick’ again. They call it like that when I tend to stare at a bird for too long, they think I do it to seduce her but I don’t. I cannot help it, it is an automatism. When I like someone, yeah. I was able to avoid it with Len, but now I feel like this about Paul I’m not too sure whether that was real at all. Maybe it was just the realization of the fact I could just fall for a bloke. A precaution of what was yet to come? I think that might actually very well be possible. 

Anyway, I have asked Pete what he thinks about Paul, and he replied that he thought Paul was playing good and that he seemed to be okay. 

Later on, Len told me that he knows Paul. He has known Paul for quite some time, actually; they are actually classmates. I did know he and Ivan are in the same class, and that Ivan would bring one of his classmates to the fete, but I did not realize that that would mean Len knows Paul. Then again - what does it matter? I don’t think it does. Maybe it is just a good year?

As I keep thinking about it - it feels so strange with Paul, as if I have seen him before - I realize that I must actually have seen him before. After all, both Len and Ivan are in the same class, and Ivan is a friend of his‘. It could be so that I’ve actually seen Paul before, that Ivan or Len told me he plays guitar and that I said I would like to meet him. Then it would have been most likely to be Ivan; yesterday - or well, the day before yesterday, it’s far past midnight by now - he told me that he wanted me to meet a friend of his that I would most certainly like to meet.

I decide to quit thinking about it - what does it matter? I have met Paul now, he will eventually get into my band - he has to, actually and well... I’ll see what‘s going to happen. 

Too bad that Ivan and Paul didn’t stay until the last performance I had with the Quarry Men. When I found out they were going to leave, I really felt sad. I would have loved to talk some more with them, especially with Paul.

 

\- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

 

PaulPaulPaulPaulPaul.

Paul. Fucking hell. How much feelings one name, four letters, can evoke, have to be … Incredible. Today, when I was walking over the street, someone shouted ‘Paul’. I know that it is a rather common name, but still. My heart jumped up and I blushed, when I recall the feeling, it was something like shame - because Pete was walking next to me and asking me what was wrong. If he just knew. 

I giggle at the thought of what he would do - probably he would look at me disgusted at first, and then think it was a joke.

Paul. He has joined the band and I still got trouble believing it. My stomach is feeling as if it is filled with nerves - first band practice with him tomorrow - and I’m almost unable to think about him without starting to glow. I know that I should be careful about that, tomorrow. 

Still. Somehow, I really hope that he is feeling the same for me. It felt different from when you like someone while she (or he) doesn’t fancy you back, but well… It could also be that I have somehow fallen in love with him at first sight while that has never happened before either. He probably doesn’t though; I bet he is all about the birds.

Paul. 

I don’t think I’ll ever be able to think normal again, not as long as he is in my life. It is very strange, it’s as if he’s always been there and always will be. Most of all, though, it feels like I have always loved him too. I reckon it could be so that I have found my soul mate, not.

Tomorrow I will see what is going to happen. See what his true capabilities are and when we can play our first gig together.

I shiver at the thought of being near him. Paul.

Better go to sleep soon. I don’t want to look tired or be moody when I see him again.

Oh boy, I am starting to go daft. Mental really, and honestly: I don’t think love is doing any good. 

Paul. I sigh again as I turn around, his name keeps repeating itself in my head like it belongs to be there and it makes me feel that I long to be with him. I want him.

\- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Paul. He’s just gotten back from Butlin’s. Holiday camp. I know that he went there with his father and bro - his mum died so obviously she didn’t go. 

I have to admit that he looks much better now. I thought he looked fucking great but he looks even better now; lost most of his chubbiness and is an incredible handsome young man now. 

He is teaching me how to play the chords properly. He promised me before he went away, taught me some then, and now he has started to continue his ’classes’. I love it. Him. It. Guitar playing and Paul. 

We sit opposite of each other, figuring out how I should play the chords - he is a leftie after all. It means that I get to look into his eyes a lot, and I see that passion in there for the music of which I’m not even sure whether I got it that badly myself. I suppose so, but I’m not entirely sure. 

Paul has told me that he’s seen it in my eyes, that I want to learn very badly and that it is the reason why he’s offered me to teach it. I am honestly not sure whether it was the love for music he has seen - and maybe, hopefully, he’s seen that it is not just the music anymore that it is about, but also my love for him.

I still hope he’s feeling the same things for me, and I still cannot help but think he indeed does. It’s more confusing, disturbing really, than discovering you fancy a bloke.   
That‘s my opinion at least.

I am so glad that we see each other each day. I don’t think I would ever be able to live without him - I can’t imagine anymore how life was before I actually met him. He has integrated in my life so much, that I can’t fucking remember a life without him and I think I very much sound like a sentimental get by now but I can’t help it. It is the truth. 

I would not even want to live without him.

Him. Paul McCartney - and since the day I met him to me also known as ‘the boy who turned my world upside down‘.

 

\- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

 

I would love to be near him. I would love him to lie next to me. Then I wonder what would happen if we were together? How would we have to do that? I suppose we would have to hide away in our rooms, together of course, and what do blokes do?

I guess we could wank each other off. I am sure we could, at least, birds can toss you off as well after all. The though of it is hot at least. We could kiss, but that is not too hard to imagine. In addition, we could give each other blowjobs… I can feel my face is getting flushed at the image of Paul going down on me, the thought evoking an obvious response.

I suspect that two blokes together can even… fuck. Sometimes I discuss the subject (queers) with my mates, and we just look disgusted and act as if it has to be horrible but to be honest: I don’t really think it is. In fact, I wouldn’t mind trying once. As I imagine Paul towering above me, sweating and panting and me in the female position it all seems very silly but still… I don’t know what it feels like at that moment, so who am I to actually judge? 

I don’t think you can actually judge something, say something is true or not, when you have not experienced it yourself.

I hope I will ever find out though. With Paul, of course.

 

\- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

 

I still cannot believe it.

How can someone get out of your life this easily, this soon without just saying goodbye? 

The filthy police officer. 

I don’t get it - you’re not allowed to drive when you have had alcohol, or at least, I don’t think you can - but he did and well…

I can’t even get myself to think about it, about the nauseating fact of what the man has done.

All the way to the hospital, with Twitchy in a cab, I kept chatting to the driver about things I can’t even remember. I might actually even have told him about Len and Paul.

When I was back I went to Paul - he immediately noticed something was wrong when he opened the door, and when he noticed my red eyes (because I cried, I fucking cried while I didn’t even want to, but I just couldn’t stop it) he knew that it was wrong.

He wrapped his arms around me, and soothed me as the tears were starting to run down my cheeks again. For what I remember, it was so that Paul closed the door behind me and guided me up to his bedroom. There we sat down for a while, on his bed, him with his arms around me. I first told him what happened, my voice choked up and the tears that still would not stop.

Then I blurted out that there was something more I had to tell him.

I actually told him I fancy him. He first looked back at me with a shocked expression, one I hadn’t seen before but liked immediately - and then he coloured red. He told me that it was probably the best for me to go, that I should take a rest because what happened to Julia is pretty much the same as what happened to his mother, only in a different way. He said that it tired him out, that first week especially, and that I should take a good rest.

Instead, I went to the pub to get a drink. Been ordering beer after beer and then something stronger, so that when I aborted the pub eventually, I was pissed. 

As soon as I got home I emptied my stomach above the toilet, the memory of that is still vivid, the taste is still in my mouth and although I hate it, I can’t even be bothered to brush my teeth or something. I don’t really care about anything, to be honest, Paul obviously doesn’t like me and Julia is just… dead. 

I have messed up my life already, cheers for me.

 

\- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

 

Today I finally told Paul about the bird at art school I like. Her name is Cynthia - I don’t even know her surname - and she’s rather pretty. Would be even prettier if she would just dye her hair blonde, like Brigitte Bardot. 

I asked her out and when I took her home this afternoon we ‘made love’ - her words. I would say it was just a fuck but still, I think it was actually her first time. I don’t think Paul remembers anything about the actual afternoon when I told him about my feelings for him, or he hasn’t ever talked about it anymore at least. I don’t think I’ll be going to tell him either, his reaction wouldn’t be nice anyway, I suppose. 

Although, sometimes I cannot help but wonder whether it was just because it was my emotional outburst why he sent me home, not my confession? Maybe he just wants me to bring up the subject again.

As I muse on about it, I can feel myself slowly drift off to sleep.

 

\- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

 

Family of Paul has had offered him to play at a bar of theirs. He asked me along, and now he is lying in the same bed as me. It’s summer holiday, and absolutely fabulous. We have told the people, customers that we are brothers and they really seem to believe us. Paul’s relatives have gotten comments about how close Paul and I are.

If they had just known about my thoughts about how much I actually still like Paul. I really had hoped for the feeling to subside a bit, seen as I’m with Cyn now and acting as if we’re happily in love, madly actually.

The reality is that I still love Paul much more. I can feel his chest rising and falling, hear his breathing (he is lying with his back towards me), and I just have the urge to touch him or to at least tell him what I feel for him. 

It is so strong, the feeling, that it is making me shake. I feel sweaty, almost as if I am becoming ill actually. It is not that I’m sick or something; it is merely the feeling that’s causing it.

At first, I very much liked being in love this much and I didn’t even care that it was a bloke I fell for. Now, I am becoming ill of it, not mentally but physically, just because I’m lying next to the one I am in love with. It should not be like this - I should be able to tell him seen as he’s my best mate anyway.

I am just too scared our friendship will change too much if I do.

Nevertheless, if you love someone this much, if someone fulfils you as perfect as Paul and I do, if your thoughts match so brilliantly… You would almost start wondering how it is possible for the other one not to fall in love with you.

Without really thinking about what I do, I whisper: ‘’I love you’’. Not that it matters: Paul’s asleep anyway.

…Or not. 

Paul turns around, staring straight into my eyes with a questionable look. I decide to just tell him, better now than in a year or two - if it is now starting to make me feel sick, it might just as well start feeling as if it’s killing me in a year or so.

‘’I love you.’’ 

He smiles at me, and replies: ‘’well, yes, the other people think we are brothers after all - brothers love each other.’’ Then he winks at me. Although I don’t really know what to answer to that, I do know that he perhaps didn’t realize which way I meant it.

‘’I love you more than Cyn.’’ I can feel my hands shake, and I am so nervous, scared for his reply. 

Paul’s facial expression changes, but not in the way I expected it. Instead of turning around again - something alike he did that one afternoon - or stare at me in disgust, he just smiles widely. 

Then he bends over and kisses me. 

While I’m still staring at him - not sure what to think about it: is he serious now or pulling me a leg? - he simply says:

‘’You have no idea for how long I have wanted to do that.’’

By saying so, he simply confirms my previous musings about what he had to be feeling for me. Then I kiss him back, and we start loving each other without having to say any more words.


End file.
